


F U B A R

by TeamAbaddon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamAbaddon/pseuds/TeamAbaddon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel James Novak's professional life within Sandover Bridge & Iron Company was ineffably fubar. It wasn’t because someone had it out for him, that he knew of, but because of the oversight of someone higher on the company food chain. A temporary solution was put in place, and eventually it just became par for the course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	F U B A R

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the short story of the same title by Kurt Vonnegut.

The World War II era was the mother of interesting words; _snafu_ , for example was a great word that came out of a horrible time. Situation normal, all fucked up. But there are times when things are just a mess – not because someone set out to make them a mess, but because of something as silly as a clerical error or something else trite like that. _Fubar_ would probably be a better word to use in that instance.

It hailed from the same time as _snafu_ , but is a far more interesting word. Fucked up beyond all recognition. It applies to so many situations in life, and yet falls to the wayside as a socially used term.

Castiel James Novak had a special affiliation with the term. His professional life within Sandover Bridge & Iron Company was ineffably fubar. It wasn’t because someone had it out for him, that he knew of, but because of the oversight of someone higher on the company food chain. A temporary solution was put in place, and eventually it just became par for the course.

He was hired into the PR department at twenty, but because of overcrowding on the assigned floor of the main office, he was assigned a small desk near the IT department in the smaller annex building just next door.

The campus the company was built on was large; housing six different buildings, including a multi-leveled building containing a cafeteria at one end, a gym towards the center, and a pool at the other end. Castiel’s assigned desk in Building 2 was meant to be a temporary solution to what was assumed to be a temporary problem.

Castiel didn’t have a secretary or any other help, so the head of the building’s IT department offered her services; whenever he needed something he would speak with Charlie Bradbury and she would get things done. She was younger than him by three years – only seventeen and a computer genius – and was constantly making references to pop culture that he didn’t understand due to a lack of interest.

Eight years passed, and his superiors seemed to always forget that they had tucked him away.

“How long have you been here, Castiel?” Charlie would ask him the same question every so often while plunking a hot cup of coffee on his desk. She would smile while speaking, letting him know that she didn’t mind his presence and might have even appreciated their little chats each morning.

“Already into the eighth year.” Castiel could have complained; he could have quit and gotten another job. But he was eight years in, having made yearly raises, and had others to think about than just himself. His cousin Sam, for example; the boy was barely a teenager and living with Castiel after the death of his parents. So he kept coming to work each day.

He was, maybe, a bit cynical and introverted as a result of being so profoundly and passively fubar, but he managed each day. Sam (short for Samandriel, though no one outside of the very old members of the family called him by his full first name) was worth the frustration he felt at work, and he did enjoy his job despite not being stationed with his peers.

But in the beginning of his ninth year Fate had a bit to say about his predicament.

Now, to some people, Building 2 burning to the ground might be an incredibly bad thing. But it was, in all actuality, exactly was Castiel needed in his life. Not that he knew it, because Castiel wasn’t familiar with how Fate worked exactly.

But there it was, burning to the ground, and he worried for a few days about if he’d even have a job anymore. Gabriel and Balthazar tried to cheer him up and ensure that the company wouldn’t just nix him after eight years of flawless service, but he couldn’t be so sure, himself. He was, after all, consistently forgotten.

“Castiel, it’s your work!” Sam, finally thirteen, brought the phone into the kitchen where his older cousins were drinking Gin from the bottle. He pulled a face at the smell of liquor on them as Castiel took the phone and tried to clear his mind to appear sober over the line.

“Hello, this is Castiel Novak.” The conversation was short, Castiel’s brows growing closer and closer together with each passing second. His family waited, for once, until he was done with his call before spilling their questions.

“What was that about, Cassie?”

“They 86 ya? If they let you go after a week of no work because their shitty building burned Balthazar and I can give you a job with us for a while.” Gabriel watched Castiel carefully. Castiel merely shook his head no, lifting the bottle of Gin and taking a short pull. He placed the bottle down and looked up, a small dazed looking smile on his face.

“I start back on Monday. New office. And I am, apparently, a supervisor.” The night drove on into the wee hours of the morning, the cousins celebrating Castiel’s continued fubar employment.

Building A, one of three labeled with letters instead of numbers (the other two being small sheds where the grounds keepers kept their supplies) was the building housing the cafeteria, gym, and pool. There were a few small offices scattered in the building, and Castiel was assigned one just big enough for two rather small desks.

The gym and pool were closed until five in the afternoon and weekends, so he wouldn’t have to worry about the jovial sounds of people exercising and having fun with their peers distract him from his job. It was a small victory, but Castiel accepted it as the way of his fubar life.

Castiel was sitting in his office, quietly reading over Sam’s school supply list to figure out how much it was going to cost (each year seemed to cost more than the last) and waiting for his assistant to arrive.

His new office was on the bottom floor, just one level below the street entrance, and the heavy doors echoed through the building when they opened and closed. He jumped at the resounding _ka-boom_ that signaled someone entering the building; but quickly regained his composure.

He had celebrated his twenty-ninth birthday over the weekend, and Sam had bought him a new blue tie. He was wearing it that day, his fingers running along it in order to make sure it hadn’t twisted backwards on him again.

He could hear the sound of shoes squeaking on the linoleum – not a surprise, as it had been a rainy morning – and silently cursed the acoustics of the building. He hoped that his assistant, whoever it was, would be able to deal with the echoes better than he was.

But being able to hear the new employee’s steps as they drew closer to their small office helped him prepare for when the moment when the door would open and he would have someone to share the small space with.

He almost felt like he should have met the new employee at the door and guide them to the office, but there were small little signs marked SANDOVER BRIDGE & IRON CO RESPONSE SECTION, PUBLIC RELATIONS DEPARTMENT guiding anyone who ever needed to seek him out towards the office, and from the sound of the footsteps the new employee was finding their way to the office just fine.

Castiel was wondering if the new employee had been informed of what their job actually would be – if they had been told about the nonsensical letters that didn’t address an issue in any particular department and was therefore sent to them to be answered. His thoughts were disrupted by a hard, rhythmic knock on the office door.

Castiel stood from his desk, making his way calmly to the door and opening it. He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting, but the teenage boy standing on the other side of the door was possibly exactly the opposite of whatever it was.

“Mr. Novak?” He couldn’t have been more than eighteen, wearing a pair of wrinkled khakis that had probably spent their life at the bottom of a pile of clothes in the boy’s closet since graduation day, an unbuttoned plaid brown shirt, and a black t-shirt. If Castiel had been pressed to pick a word to describe the new employee at that second, it would probably have been, ‘flawless,’ or something equally embarrassing.

“Yes?”

“I’m Dean Winchester, I’ll be working with you.” Castiel moved out of the way to let Dean come in. He figured the boy had probably applied through a staffing agency, and had been told to report to duty right after passing a piss test.

Dean didn’t seem fazed by the tiny office, nor was he impressed, as he looked over the small desk provided for him. He sat down at his computer, fingers running along the ledge as he smiled a little and began rifling through the nearly barren drawers.

“So, this is nicer than I thought.” Dean looked up from the drawer he was going through and stood, pulling the pamphlets he’d been given about the company from his back pocket and dropping them on top of the keyboard.

“Is it?” Castiel took a seat at his desk, unsure what to do with himself now that the mystery new employee had shown up – fresh faced and obviously at least a little excited over what was probably his very first job. Castiel remembered what he’d been like on his first day, before things had become inexplicably and continually fubar. He sincerely hoped Dean would have a better experience than he did.

“I was expecting some dingy place with a light that barely worked. A bit of mold, and an old woman who smelled like mothballs.” Dean leaned back in his chair, looking up at the suspended ceiling tiles, “Man, my brother isn’t going to believe I get an actual desk in an office.”

“It isn’t much of an office, Dean.” Castiel watched as Dean leaned forward, head jerking downwards violently as the front wheels of the chair touched against the tiled floor. He carefully maneuvered his chair around the corner of his desk, coming to sit directly in front of the closest portion of Castiel’s desk to his own. He leaned against the desk, arms folded over each other and leaning forward against them.

“I wouldn’t say that. The temp agency that sent me here? Their office smelled like week old cheese and had these horrible fluorescent lights.”

Castiel looked at Dean uneasily, wishing he’d had more than the three letters sitting on his desk to leaf through. It would distract him from thinking about how Dean would, before lunch, figure out that Castiel wasn’t much of a supervisor and that his job wasn’t much to talk about. It paid the bills and mirrored his fubar life perfectly.

Castiel set to work, answering his three letters (one of which he was almost certain had been sent by Gabriel, just to annoy him) while Dean set up his email account and familiarized himself with the few things in the office they used – printer, fax machine, etc – and checking his email to see if any mail had been forwarded electronically.

Castiel liked to have hard copies of his replies to the letters he received on top of the digital files, and when they came off the printer Dean stapled them to the back of the original letter and filed them away in their brand new filing cabinets.

Dean was shuffling about behind his desk, fingers tapping out a familiar rhythm against the faux-wood top while Castiel skimmed the company newsletter to see if there was anything of interest or real importance to be found.

“So, anything else to do right now?”

“We’re done, for now. You’ve started on a slow day.” It was always a slow day, but that particular morning was slower than normal.

“When does the mail come?” Dean seemed to be hoping for more letters; perhaps a chance to reply to one himself instead of waiting to see if Castiel needed him to do anything. The boy looked like he’d be willing to run off and fetch coffee for them if Castiel asked. Which, he had considered sending Dean out for just that, but found himself unwilling to ask him to actually do anything for him.

“The mail doesn’t run to the building because we’re the only ones here. I’ve decided to pick it up in the mornings on my way in, and check it again after lunch.”

“Anyone ever actually come out here, Cas?” Dean was unbending a paperclip he’d found in the long, shallow drawer of his desk. Castiel looked up abruptly, the slight widening of his eyes going unnoticed as Dean was busy unbending and rebending the paperclip into something else.

“I don’t suppose they will. I was in a different building before today, and they didn’t come then. It’s safe to assume the trend will continue.”

“I’m not sure if that’s incredibly lame or awesome.” Dean tossed the paperclip into the waste bin, finally giving Castiel his attention. They stared at each other a moment, neither having anything any more interesting to do than to just hold their companion’s gaze. Dean finally looked away, pulling his cellphone from his pocket and placing it on his desk.

“You’re more than welcome to explore the campus if you’d like, Dean. Lunch is in about an hour. Or you can read the incredibly informative pamphlets you were provided.” Castiel smiled at the laugh that Dean gave as he picked the pamphlets up from the desk. Dean waved the folded pieces of paper around before tossing them in the trashcan with the paperclip.

“What kind of music do ya listen to?” Dean made himself comfortable behind his tiny desk, feet propped up next his keyboard, leaned back, arms crossed behind his head.

“Older music.” Castiel figured Dean probably listened to the popular music on the radio – one of the new rock stations that played the same top 30 songs every rotation with a few requests peppered in to keep it from being overly monotonous.

“Like Zeppelin?” Castiel simply nodded. He wasn’t incredibly interesting; to most he was probably incredibly boring. He had been raising Sam since he was seventeen, and before that he spent most his time looking after his younger brother, Inias. He hadn’t had much of a childhood; most of his fubar life had been spent taking care of other people.

He didn’t want to answer any other questions Dean could possibly ask – the teen would probably respect him for taking care of others his whole life, but that respect would be tainted with pity for the unlucky and dull man he worked with.

He closed his eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose and unwilling to open again to face the look on Dean’s face as he answered his question of if he liked going out to the movies or if he enjoyed sports with a listless, “No, Dean.”

He finally opened his eyes, meeting Dean’s unreadable stare. He didn’t think about his words, just opened his mouth and simply said, “I don’t think you’ll like it here, Dean.”

“What?” Dean looked honestly confused.

“You should go back to the temp agency and ask for a new assignment.” Castiel watched as Dean’s face hardened, all confusion and any hint of the mirth he’d shown at having his first job wiped away in a split second. Castiel would have been surprised if he hadn’t been so intent on convincing Dean to leave.

“What the Hell? I ask a few questions and you decide to say fuck it, you don’t want an assistant?”

“That’s not it at all, Dean.” Castiel felt a headache coming on. He honestly worried about the day that Sam started reacting to things in that exact same way, the same way he’d reacted to things when his family members had tried to tell him he was much too young to take on the responsibility of raising a kid when he was barely out of high school.

“You’re young, Dean. You’ll find another job, better than this one. You’ll rot if you stay here.”

“Rot?”

“Rot. Like me,” Castiel had to bite his tongue to keep from spilling his fubar life in chronological order, “Goodbye, Mr. Winchester.” Castiel watched as Dean snatched his phone up from the desk and slammed his way out the door. He listened for the sound of him traveling down the hall towards the door, and then waited to hear the door slam shut. A few minutes passed and he never heard the door, and was about to decide that Dean must have left in a quieter fashion than he’d come, when he heard the sound of music.

He stared at the ventilation a moment before leaving his office. He followed the source of the music to the empty gym that was set up for a company party at the end of the day to celebrate the temporarily displaced employees’ return to work that afternoon. Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy was playing on an old record player (and Castiel had to wonder who had provided the record player and the record, really).

He stood next to the small table housing the record player, eyes closed as The Song Remains The Same played. He mouthed the lyrics, never once looking around or up at the balcony where Dean was leaning against the railing, watching him tap his fingers along the top of the table and quietly sing along with the music.

The song ended, and as soon as The Rain Song started he heard Dean shout down, “Did it help?”

“Help?” Castiel looked up at Dean, trying to force back a smile.

“Help. You know, music helps. Makes you, I don’t know, happy or something. My brother, Sammy, he always plays music when I’m in a bad mood. It helps.”

“You have a brother named Sam?”

“Sometimes it’s more like I have a little sister named Samantha.” Dean’s laugh was infectious; Castiel couldn’t keep back the smile anymore and looked down at his feet to hide it.

“I have a younger cousin, Sam, that lives with me.”

“Well look at that, Mr. Novak has a Sam of his own. You know, there’s a perfectly good pool right here. We could take a dip, relax a bit.” Dean left his post against the railing, making his way to the stairs and taking them two at a time. Castiel watched him descend the metal steps, realizing for the first time that Dean was bow legged.

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“Me either. Come on.” Dean winked, pulling Castiel along by the hand towards the pool. Castiel let himself be pulled along, heart thudding. Not because Dean was practically holding his hand, or that they were going to be in the water together in some form of undress, but because it was something new. It had been a very, very long time in his fubar life that he’d done something new.

Dean started stripping down to his boxers when they entered the pool area, piling his clothing haphazardly in the corner before walking towards the edge of the deep end and looking in. He looked back over his shoulder, sighing when he caught sight of Castiel standing on the side.

“Really? You’re just going to stand there?”

“I don’t have any other boxers to change into.”

“Go O’Naturale, then. Look, I’ll turn my back until you get in the water.” Dean turned away from Castiel, staring straight ahead with his eyes clenched shut. He heard the sound of rustling clothes, and finally the sound of Castiel getting in the water, “How is it?”

“Warm.” Dean jumped into the pool without any encouragement, coming up and shaking his hair out of his face. He turned in the water to smile at Castiel before floating on his back, lazily backstroking about. Castiel dove under the water, enjoying the freedom of being in the water before coming up for air near the ladder.

“Hey, Cas, I have another question.” Dean was clear on the other side of the pool, still on his back with his eyes closed.

“What is it, Dean?”

“Why do you keep working here if you feel like you’re rotting away?”

“I’ve been taking care of my cousin, Sam, since I was seventeen. I want to give him the best life I can, so I work as hard as I can to provide for him.” Castiel watched Dean roll onto his stomach and swim downwards into the water. He came up a few moments later, right in Castiel’s personal space as if he didn’t care that the older man was naked. They lingered by the ladder before Dean grabbed hold of the railing and climbed out.

“My mom died when I was four, it’s been me and Sam and our dad since then. But dad isn’t home much, so it’s been me taking care of Sammy. I get it, Cas. I know it’s hard. But, dude, you have to enjoy life. You have to do things for you sometimes.” Dean turned back to the pool and crouched down, holding his hand out to help Castiel out.

It was a split decision, something unplanned and hardly thought out. Castiel took Dean’s hand and pulled him back into the water, smiling at the indignant yelp as he hit the water. Dean came back up, ready to yell, and Castiel leaned in.

He pressed his hand to Dean’s cheek, curled his fingers behind his ear and closed his eyes. It was, most likely, supposed to be a simple kiss. Nothing like the fervent press of lips, the slip of tongue, and the light bites at Dean’s lips.

Dean didn’t chase his lips when he pulled away, but merely opened his eyes and nodded, “Yeah, just like that, Cas.”

 

 

They were dried off and redressed – sans boxers on Dean’s part – when the lunch bell finally rang. Dean shoved his sopping wet boxers into a plastic bag he’d found in the locker room and followed Castiel back towards their office where his keys and wallet were.

“Would you like to grab lunch, Dean?” Dean decided that the smile Castiel gave him looked better than the frown lines that had creased his brow earlier.

“Can’t. Gotta go shopping. I need something to swim in and a new pair of boxers. You comin’ along, Cas?” Dean didn’t wait for a reply, simply leading the way out towards the parking lot knowing that his supervisor was following.

**Author's Note:**

> You can stalk our Lord and Dictator (aka the person who does 90% of all the writing for Team Abaddon) on Tumblr at [cockteaseofthelord](http://cockteaseofthelord.tumblr.com).


End file.
